The four dwarves ran toward the tree hollow as if fleeing for their lives.
Ang noticed that they moved swiftly and warily, clearly afraid of being caught.
Just as they were about to enter the tree hollow, Ang casually took out a barrel of rum from his Magic Waist Pouch. Its fragrance instantly spread through the air, rich and mellow, as though it possessed some magic that drew them in.
The four dwarves stopped at once. Their eyes locked onto the barrel of liquor, and expressions of near-desperate longing appeared on their faces.
Almost in unison, all four swallowed.
That barrel of rum had become the center of their attention, making them hesitate.
Seeing this, Ang softly asked, "Can you take us to your clan?"
The messy-haired middle-aged dwarf immediately became alert. Frowning, he asked distrustfully, "What do you want?"
"We mean no harm," Ang's voice reached them through the soul field. "We only wish to find the elves. Since you four do not know, perhaps other dwarves do."
As he spoke, his gaze never left the four dwarves. Yet there was a sincerity in his tone, and they could tell that he was not an enemy.
The four dwarves began discussing in low voices. Though they were whispering, every word seemed filled with deliberation and doubt.
The temptation of the liquor and the risks of reality forced them to consider the matter carefully.
Ang heard them clearly. The messy-haired middle-aged dwarf frowned and asked, "Should we agree to it?"
"No. If they mean us harm, our clan will be affected." The dwarf Toman was clearly worried. Although they had begun trusting the three of them earlier, he still could not completely lower his guard.
Another dwarf spoke more mildly. "If even minotaurs can be their companions, perhaps they really